When my Heart is my Own
by ncisnewbie
Summary: The 2013 State of the Union address robbed the NCIS LA community of a Valentine's episode, so I thought I'd speculate on how Eric and Nell spent the week. What kind of Valentine's presents are involved? Set after, and set up by "Kill House."


**The 2013 State of the Union address robbed the NCIS LA community of a Valentine's episode, so I thought I'd speculate on how Eric and Nell spent the week. Set after, and set up by "Kill House,"**

**As will become apparent, I don't know martial arts or martial arts equipment, but I don't think Eric does either.**

**Standard Disclaimers apply: I don't own NCIS: LA characters. Company names are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Lyrics to the song "Set them Free" are by Sting, and downloaded from his website.**

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**When my Heart is My Own**

Feb. 9, 2013

To: DarrinBeal

From:OreoTwin

Hey, Bro:

It's Saturday morning, so I've got a some time to drop you an e-mail. Finished chores around the house: laundry, installed a new doorstop, emptied the crock-pot into some containers to freeze for my weekday dinners. Video games and old movies don't float my boat today, and surfing is out: this time of year the water is so cold the waves would have to be awesome even to tempt me. Put simply, it's restlessness: Restless-like-a-caged-animal restlessness.

There is Valentine's shopping for Nell, that girl from work I've been telling you about, but that would just add to my torture: how do you shop for someone when you don't know where you stand with her? Even the Overpriced Cards store doesn't have a "Thing," section in their Valentine's Day display.

Fact is, I think I put my foot in my mouth—again—with her. Last week, I was over-possessive, blurting out about that kiss under the mistletoe that was probably just her way of getting me to do what she wanted. This week, I got over-protective and probably ruined her big moment in the spotlight. I changed my tack to supportive as soon as I realized, but even that may have come on too lovey-dovey for where we are. Now, I can't even call and apologize, because she's got this weird unplugged-all-weekend deal going as a New Year's resolution.

Hope things are better there than they are here, Bro. They can't be worse, right? Seriously, all the best to Sue and the kids.

Eric.

Feb. 9, 2013

To: OreoTwin

From: DarrinBeal

Little Erkie:

It's time for your big brother to talk some serious sense into you. Listen to yourself:

that kiss under the mistletoe that was probably just her way of getting me

to do what she wanted.

She wanted to spend time with you in a casual setting away from work. This is a good thing. It's called a not-quite-a-date, so she can ask you, without anybody stressing.

I got over-protective…. I changed my tack to supportive as soon as I

realized, but …may have come on too lovey-dovey.

Even bumbling, you're protective, supportive, and lovey-dovey. I think your instincts are good, and if you just follow them, you're smart enough that things will work out.

Keep me posted, bro.

Darrin.

As soon as he got Darrin's e-mail, he left for the office. After a few hours restlessly doing paperwork and sorting, he wandered through the gym. Callen's high-tech punching bag (Eric called it the jujitsmatron) was still against one wall, and Eric was so frustrated that he decided to use that burn off his energy. He booted it up, set it to level 2, and slipped on the kneepads and boxing gloves. Steeling himself, he tapped the screen to start and the machine started barking out orders.

"Cross, cross, uppercut, jab, sweep, knee, kick, cross…that was wimpy! Hit me more! Jab, knee, cross, sweep… faster, punk! …"

After just a few minutes, Eric was defeated. He'd known he wasn't cut out for fighting, but this was demoralizing. The stupid machine was so insulting.

He sipped some Gatorade to cool off, and started wondering about Nell. It sounded like she was thinking about going into the field more, maybe even as an agent. She seemed so fragile to try to get through combat training against brutes like that. If she were like him, the training alone would crush her spirit. Eric started to walk it off, and once his balance returned, he headed back to ops.

Walking through the bullpen, Eric heard a sound system playing in the distance. Someone else was in, thought they were alone, and was playing his stereo.

As Eric was walking up the steps, he finally heard the lyrics to the song. It was Sting.

_If it's a mirror you want_

_Just look into my eyes_

_Or a whipping boy_

_Someone to despise_

_Or a prisoner in the dark_

_Tied up in chains you just can't see_

_Or a beast in a gilded cage_

_That's all some people ever want to be_

_If you love somebody_

_If you love someone_

_If you love somebody_

_If you love someone, set them free_

_Set them free_

_Set them free_

_Set them free_

_You can't control an independent heart_

_Can't tear the one you love apart_

_Forever conditioned to believe that we can't live_

_We can't live here and be happy with less_

_So many riches_

_So many souls_

_With everything we see that we want to possess_

Inspiration finally hit Eric like a bolt of lightning. He grabbed his cell phone and called a surfer buddy, "Hey, Mark. How's your family? …. yeah, too cold for me, too…. Maybe next weekend…Listen, did you say MJ was doing MMA after school? Where do you get the gear for him? … Okay, I know the neighborhood. I'll Google the place. …No way, not for me. Are you serious? …Yep, all we can do is take care of our land tasks so when the waves come, we can surf some more. Take care!"

It definitely counted as an adventure when Eric finally found the place. He could almost smell the testosterone oozing out of all the posters, counters, and displays. Eric had decided on his "cover story," on the way over, so when the burly teenager came over to help, he was ready.

"My son is starting Jujitsu, and the school recommended that I get the supplies here. He's about 5-foot-2, and on the skinny side. What should I get? It's just I can't bring him in: It's a birthday present." So the guy set Eric up with all the usual: gloves, kneepads, helmet, and mouthpiece.

"Will he need a cup?" asked the kid.

"Yeah, now that you mention it."

"Adult or junior?"

"Adult, I guess." And the guy got a smile on his face, almost matching Eric's embarrassed grimace.

"I'll probably end up being his sparring partner. What do you think I'll need?"

Out came a bigger helmet, chest pad, shin guards, another mouthpiece, more kneepads, and some circular target gloves.

"Cup for you?"  
"No, I'm all set."

The kid threw in a couple free tee shirts for advertising, and Eric was all set.

On the way home, Eric stopped off to get the wrapping paper, ribbon, and two boxes. When he got home, he wrapped Nell's box first, putting the tee shirt on top so it would display the purpose. Eric then filled his box, putting the tee shirt on top, then the target gloves, then the helmet and the rest of the padding.

The only thing remaining was the cup, so he put that in a paper bag to slip into his locker at work. He didn't bother wrapping his box, but he used the ribbon to tie both boxes together.

That afternoon, Nell walked into the Starbucks and spotted Kensi right away. Friday afternoon, Nell had suggested they get together for coffee, and Kensi had selected this Starbucks. The agent got up and joined her in line as they waited for Nell's drink.

"You found the place alright."

"Sure, with GPS, it's never a problem….Man, there are a lot of police in here."

"Yup. The station's just around the corner, and the cops in this area are so upscale that they've replaced the typical donut and Joe with a scone and cappuccino: Progress! So, what's the occasion?"

The barista handed Nell her cappuccino, and they went back to Kensi's table, navigating around strollers, laptops, a real estate agent trying to salvage his deal, and a chess game in its final stages.

"Oh, I just thought it would be nice to catch up with you, have some girl-time, that we were sober enough to enjoy," and she smirked. "Just trying to chat about your week…honest. How's life in the field?"

"That kill house was an adventure. We basically succeeded in both simulations. But it felt like we were back in training."

"How so?"

"Same goggles, same gear. Paint pellets flying all over. Up against a really well-trained team."

"Was it fun?"

"Not this time around. The ops that they set us were just the cover. So just like most covers, it's more difficult when you've got to work on the real mission at the same time."

"That doesn't sound like what you had during training."

"No, back then, I was just trying to get a good score so I'd graduate to a good assignment. And I wanted to keep up the family name. But hang on, here. You're the hero of that place!"

A blush of modesty tinted Nell's cheek. "Me, no! If I'd been thinking during the afternoon, I wouldn't have been taken hostage."

"If we'd been thinking, you wouldn't have been left alone there. You're the one who sat in the kill house when all those real weapons were firing through all those paper-thin walls. You're the one who demagged a retired SEAL in full combat gear, then got out of the way for our shot. That's what went in my after-action report." Nell's blush was a full crimson by this stage, but Kensi was so contrary, Nell's blush seemed instead to force her to press on. "You understand that since this involved the training of Navy SEALS, the report is going to the office of SECNAV, and since it involved the methods used to train our special forces, it's going to FLETC, the Interagency Training Center at Quantico."

"Tell 'em I was just using my training. I don't think Inman expected I'd had any training at all."

"Eric seemed real glad you got back to ops in one piece. I bet it felt good to see him again."

Nell struggled to deflect this. "He was the same as always: basically looking out for our partnership, but in a way that comes out wrong. Protective, possessive, but then…I dunno…He sounded supportive at the end. It sounds like he wants what's best for me; whatever that is."

"We all want what's best for you."

"But why would it be so easy for him to say goodbye to me forever?"

"We all know it wouldn't be forever. Nate's in and out around here a lot. If you leave for training, Hetty would claw like a cornered wolverine to design the position for you that you would want. Hetty knows you're amazing, and she's gonna support you any way she can. I think she sees a younger version of herself in you."

This drew Nell up with a shock, so she redirected the conversation. "So, what's up with you and Marty?"

"Aha, that's what you're up to, Little Nell! Ask me out here, then hope for some crumbs of juicy gossip!"

"Oh, c'mon! Valentine's Day is just around the corner! Don't tell me you're not thinking about something!"

"I'm just hoping to get through the day without Deeks embarrassing me too much! Seriously, I know there's a good guy under that exterior of crass jokes, but I haven't seen it much lately. Sometimes I just wanna give him a knee in the nether regions."

"Ouch. That'd get his attention. Anything I can do for you about it?"

"Don't think so. If it does get worse, I'll have to be the one to tell him to cool it."

"Well, count on my support if you need anything, Kens. I'm sure Hetty would understand your problem, too." And they sat quietly for a minute.

"But no more crying in our beer."

"We can't cry in our beer. It's a coffee shop!"

"You know what I mean. What are your plans for Valentines, Nell?"

"Who knows?"

"Gonna call him this weekend?"

"Can't. My New Year's resolution was to go all weekend without phones and computers. Besides, why would I call him?"

"To give him the chance to ask you out."

"We work shoulder to shoulder five long days a week. He's had plenty of time to ask me out. After I threw myself at him under the mistletoe, it's time for him to fish or cut bait."

"So, is that why you went unplugged?"

"Partly…. Mostly, I guess…. There's reading, gardening, my piano. But really, Kens, I need some time when I don't have to be ready for the phone to ring. Some time when my heart is my own."

"You've got it bad, girl! Anything I can do to help?"

"What, like keep the team out of Eric's way in the morning and at the end of the day? Don't bother, but don't say anything to him, either. The ball's in Eric's court." And with that, Nell crumpled her paper cup and slammed it into the nearest trashcan.

Nell arrived early on Valentine's Day, so she was surprised to see Eric's car in the lot already. When she arrived in ops, Eric stood up and spun her chair around to reveal the two boxes tied together with red ribbon. "Happy Valentine's Day, Nell!"

"Happy Valentines to you, too, Eric."

"Listen, I know we tend to end up with weird gifts for each other. Those tights…"

"Leggings."  
"Whatever. You had some serious fun with those…at my expense. Well, here's your chance to…well, you'll see."

Not without trepidation, Nell started unwrapping. "Start with this box," said Eric, handing her the smaller one. To cut through Nell's puzzlement, Eric said, "See, no leggings," when she lifted the tee shirt to reveal the martial arts equipment underneath.

"Okay, Eric. Now I'm confused."

"Try this box out, too."

So she opened the other box, filled with Eric's padding and protective gear. "Nope. Even more confused."

"Here, Nell. This is your stuff. And this is for me. I'll be your sparring partner, if you want."

"What d'ya mean?"

"Last week, I saw that glint in your eye when you got thinking about being an agent, and I had said things I came to regret. I've realized that the decision about going into the field—trying to keep up with the likes of Sam and Callen—is yours alone. But I realized how scared I'd be about making that decision. You just seem so—sweet—for that, especially the hand-to-hand combat, that I thought you'd feel more comfortable in that training if you started out with someone committed to being nice to you."

"What's this? Nice martial arts? That's kinda contradictory."

"Sure, but if you decide to go through with it, maybe once you're done with fighting me, you'll be confident enough for a normal combat trainer…if you want."

"What, are you pushing me into field training now, Eric?"

"No! No! I'm trying to say that you get to decide: That I'll be there for you, even if it's by being your punching bag."

"And what if I don't want to be an agent?"

"Fine with me. Any training you do would count as self-defense, keep you safer around the town. Tell you what: just think about it for a while. Sparring with me doesn't mean you're going into the field. It's just something different we can do, different from video games, if that's what you want."

"Well, I see your point. I'll think about it. But you've got to admit, it's a weird present."

"'Bout as weird as the leggings."

"Okay, call 'em tights," said Nell, and she threw her arms around Eric. "Let me take you out for dinner tonight, Eric."

It was 10:00 that evening, and Hetty was in the armory cleaning her service weapon again. Through the windows, she saw Eric and Nell walk through the gym to the lockers, and through the laughter she heard, "That was an amazing dinner, Nell. Thanks for taking me out."

"It was a pleasure, but now I'm really gonna take you out. Let's get changed."

A few minutes later, they both emerged form the locker rooms in matching tee shirts and padded helmets, now exchanging nervous giggles.

Eric finished tying the laces on Nell's gloves, grabbed the pads, and crouched down to block her assault. "Ready when you are."

Hetty turned back to her work and was heard to mutter, "Ah, reminiscence."


End file.
